


we'll know it then

by aceds



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal
Genre: (at the end) - Freeform, Comfort, Established Relationship, Healing, M/M, Marriage Proposal, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon, Shuake Week 2020, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, goro: are u telling me my family are a bunch of coffee addicts, hugs that are caused by immense love, they talk abt getting married and goros like holy shit this is actually a possibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27618590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceds/pseuds/aceds
Summary: This is something we have earned,he finds himself thinking.I want to allow myself to believe in it.Goro and Akira and the sky lit up with fireworks.Written for Day 1 -hope/ stars / fantasy
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Kudos: 69





	we'll know it then

**Author's Note:**

> WELL i totally forgot shuake week was happening, but i remembered i finished this one a few months ago so here it is. they deserve kindness
> 
> i hope you enjoy! quick disclaimer i started a few parts of this before p5r was announced so if somethings iffy, thats that.

“Holy shit,” Akira’s breath flies up as it leaves him, dissipating into the air. He’s leaning onto one foot, hands tucked tight into his pockets. His eyes are blown wide with excitement, thinly veiled joy that makes Goro smile. Shibuya is overflowing with even more people than usual, and the lights are blinding. 

He gets into his own head more often than not, thoughts and feelings mixing together into a jumble so he ends up not feeling much at all. Right now he’s thinking,  _ could that woman move over to the side a little? It’s stifling. Oh, Akira’s hand is warm, isn’t it. Fuck. Yes, New Years Eve.  _ On a normal day, he’d be more chatty, but right now he’s too in awe of the lights lining up and down the street, multi-colored scarves and coats all around him. It’s both infuriating and amazing, to stand in the crowd like this and watch a TV screen in the sky project numbers. Akira looks happy about it, so he’ll let it slide. 

“Woooah,” his boyfriend extends a hand towards the big blue screen. No matter how many times he watches this exact countdown, he never fails to stare in awe at the sheer size of this city, how small he seems compared to everyone else. Goro had once felt the same way, insignificant and pointless. With how everyone sticks to their own in Tokyo, you’d mistake the static noise for dead silence. The silence used to engulf him entirely. Akira, on the other hand, has  _ superb  _ hearing, and on more than one occasion has gone on a tirade about the strange things he hears from passersby in Shinjuku. The silence  _ welcomes _ Akira. He indulges in it, seeking out stray bits of knowledge and reaching out his hand and pulling people out. That’s how Goro would put it. Akira would say that he’s just lucky, instead of talented.

Goro puts a hand on his exposed neck, tightening his own scarf around himself. Usually, they’d spend Christmas’ Eve with their friends at Leblanc, but this year they are a year out of college and some of their friends are overseas. Futaba and Sojiro are at the cafe, but kindly declined going out to Shibuya with the two of them. They’ll visit the two of them later after the countdown. Ann’s gone on a trip across the world and calls every chance she can get. The last time Goro saw her, she was lounging on a ship headed for Paris in the middle of December; he can only hope she’s having a delightful time there. Haru and Makoto are across the world too, attempting to make a change elsewhere. For now, its him and Akira at Shibuya Crossing, blinking up at the nightsky and the noise going through the crowd.  _ Three! Two! One!  _ And then Akira squeezes his hand, pulls Goro toward him. Goro’s hands scramble for his when their lips meet. 

Later, making their way down the familiar street in Yongen-jaya, Akira drops a bombshell on him. “We should get married,” he says, his voice sounding open but not raw. Strangely happy, Goro thinks, unbelievably hopeful. Akira’s hand finds his. Goro thinks of seeing Akira in a suit, their friends lined up behind them.  _ It can’t be a big event, _ he thinks, already planning ahead without realizing. _ Neither of us like that sort of thing. We’ll get the important people, the ones that matter. No frivolities.  _

Ace Detective Prince Akechi Goro says gleefully in his ear,  _ you get to show off to everyone at work that at least  _ you’re  _ happy, though! You’re going to pass that up? Publicity on the news too –  _ He shoots down the thought, and Akechi (Shido) Goro hisses in his other ear,  _ it’s pointless, pointless pointless pointless, sentimental bullshit, he’s never cared about you, you’re his test subject, an experiment  _ – and he finds it easier to tune that one out, to his own surprise. 

It’s far from loud in Yongen-jaya, and the contrast to Shibuya and its lights stacked on top of each other isn’t unwelcome, exactly. “Getting one of those traditional weddings where you walk towards me through the aisle is just boring, don’t you think?” Akira says, nimble fingers flitting up to the back of his head, the way they always do. Goro entertains the thought of Akira having thought about this before, but instead of making him laugh it makes him emotional, so he pulls the scarf over his nose, both to hide the red growing on the top of his ear and to fight the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

“Who said I’d be the one walking down the aisle?” 

“That’s my point,” Akira agrees, “we should both walk down. On opposite sides. Don’t look at me like that, I saw it on some blogpost. And we should meet in the middle. Do you remember the words to that long speech thing? We should make our own.” As Akira rambles on, Goro sees this: His hair is pulled into a ponytail, and because its a small event he doesn’t need to make it look pristine and perfect, but he will because this is an important event and an important time, there will be pictures taken and this will be documented forever, but Akira would undoubtedly tell him not to worry about it, you always look perfect, or something unbearably cheesy like that. He sees Akira’s silhouette on the other side of the room, more familiar to him than anyone else in the world. They tried to comb his hair back, to make him look more serious, but strands of it have already begun sticking up in usual Akira Kurusu fashion. His arm is inside Sojiro’s, who cried when he was asked to do this, and is now furiously trying to avoid showing weakness again by wearing sunglasses. Akira is trying to hurry up, move faster, but Sojiro looks at him endearingly and then pulls him backward by force. Ann will probably cry. He asked Sae to walk him down the aisle, because she’s the closest thing he has to an older sibling, she’s family, and when she said that Goro was the equivalent of her younger brother a few weeks ago, Goro had put his hand over his face, and adamantly said,  _ No one is crying. No one is crying, Sae-san. I’m fine. You’re hearing things.  _ Back in his self-indulgent daydream, he hears words like  _ holy matrimony, joyous occasion, do you take this–  _ but it comes in one ear and out the other because Akira’s smile is literally blinding. 

_ Oh, shit,  _ Goro thinks,  _ I want to marry him, _ just as Akira says eloquently, “and then – oh,  _ fuck!”  _ The two of them reel back at the sight of Futaba turning the corner, seeing them, and then barreling straight into their stomachs. 

“Oomf,” Goro croaks, momentarily blinded, feeling around with his two hands and finding Futaba’s jacket sleeve and Akira’s collar. 

“Ah – _ ahhhh, ow,”  _ Akira says eloquently once again, doubling forward with both hands on his stomach. 

“You both took way too long,” Futaba apologizes, and wait, that isn’t an apology. When neither of them respond, she actually looks a little guilty. “Sorry, did that hurt too much? Is my head made of steel?” 

Akira places a hand over Futaba’s head, takes a deep breath, looks at her, and says,  _ "Yes." _ It’s such a funny sight that Goro bursts into laughter. 

“Stop laughing,” Akira complains, but Goro only laughs harder. Futaba takes one long look at him and then starts laughing too. They’re standing in the middle of the street, laughing wildly while Akira stares at the two of them, aghast. This goes on for a few more minutes until Futaba wipes the tears away from her eyes, and then opens her arms. 

“Happy New Years,” she says, smile kinder now. Akira crashes right into  _ her _ this time. Goro looks down at his shoes, feeling like he’s intruding on the moment. He doesn’t expect slender fingers wrapping around his wrist, Futaba tugging him into the hug sharply. Akira’s arm goes around his waist and Futaba’s arm goes under his. One of his arms gets jammed in-between Akira and Futaba, the other tries to maneuver himself around Akira and suddenly they’re a mess of limbs, teary eyes, gripping at each other with an actual intensity. 

That’s how the three of them try to make their way back to the cafe, their hands digging into the back of each others’ shirts, still trying to uselessly stifle their giggles. Goro doesn’t even know why they’re laughing anymore, but the corners of his eyes are tinged with pink, rose-coloured lenses over his vision. Akira’s chin digs into his shoulder, the back of Futaba’s head is shoved into his middle, and they look  _ ridiculous  _ trying to move as one, like they’re in some sort of three-legged race. For once, Goro finds himself not being able to give a damn. 

Sojiro is waiting outside the door when they manage to make themselves go halfway down the alley, and he looks at them with a look bordering between  _ I am burdened with having to love you three  _ and  _ I’m going to lock you guys in the bathroom and let you deal with it.  _ Goro gives him a sheepish smile, Akira gives him two thumbs up from behind Goro, and Futaba sticks out her tongue, holds out a hand, and drags him into their web. 

_ Happy new years, new years, new years,  _ rings in Goro’s head like a mantra, an anthem, a reminder. He’s made it another year, and with a family, rambunctious and makeshift and lovely all the same. (Does he deserve that? Is he ever going to feel like he does? Probably not.) He feels – he  _ feels. _ He doesn’t know what it is, but he’s feeling in a way that he can’t remember feeling when he was young. The smile won’t leave his face. He wants to feel like this all the time, everyday. He can’t even bring himself to pretend like he isn’t happy. When he checks his phone that night, Ann has attempted to call him about six times. 

_ Holy shit,  _ he types as a response to Ann’s (ongoing) tirade about how  _ ur one of my best friends, you never leave your phone on silent, answer meeeee!!!!!!! or don’t, if u can’t actually no pressure goro, ofc. happy new years! ily!  _

_ sorry, i’ll call you tomorrow i think morgana is physically attempting to move a couch on his own?  _

**ann the GREAT:** _ hes what. i want pictures.  _

_ Yes yes. Happy new years Ann.  _ He hesitates for a second, fingers hovering over the letters, before he adds,  _ love you too.  _

“Kid,” Sojiro sounds like he’s just escaped from a desert, throat parched. Or maybe it’s just the presence of Akira, Futaba, and Morgana in the same room. “I need some help,” Goro complies. 

Later that month, less than three weeks into the new year, Akira brings up the conversation they were having before Futaba barged into them. Goro sees the shine of a ring in his pocket and almost passes out.  _ Yes, _ he says before Akira has even finished his sentence.  _ Yeah, yes, of course, what type of fucking question –  _ He’s breathless, he feels like he has wings, and then actual fucking tears are falling out of Akira’s eyes and then they’re  _ both _ crying, and Inokashira is beautiful this time of day, its beautiful all the time, it only serves as a compliment to Akira, whose hands shake, unforeseen emotions rising to the surface.  _ Holy shit, _ he thinks as Akira takes off his glasses, checks his pulse.  _ I want to marry him,  _ he decides, when Akira races to him and drives them both onto the ground. 

  
_ This is something we have earned,  _ he finds himself thinking.  _ I want to allow myself to believe in it. _


End file.
